


Broken Robins & Bleeding Bats

by mizmahlia



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: And that's by getting hurt, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, the only way they know how
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 21:31:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizmahlia/pseuds/mizmahlia
Summary: Victor Szasz manages to escape Arkham again, adding to his tally marks as he goes. Batman and Robin try to stop him, but are injured in the process. Will this by the occasion Zsasz was waiting for, when he'll get to add the mark for Batman to his flesh? Or will he and Robin get help in time?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I could have SWORN I'd already posted this here, but it looks like it's been deleted. I wrote this back in 2011 and posted it on FF.net. When I started my account here (AKA The Promised Land), I transferred and cross-posted everything here. *shrug* Anyway. 
> 
> So this might not be a new fic for those who've been following me for a while.

"Robin, we need to hurry. Zsasz disappeared into the woods just west of Arkham. He took a staff physician with him."

The duo jumped from the rooftop of the Arkham medical facility and hurried toward the Batwing. Victor Zsasz had been treated there for some minor bruises and abrasions after he picked a fight with another inmate. What the Arkham Asylum staff thought was just another fight between inmates had was actually a plan carefully orchestrated by Zsasz to escape and continue his murderous spree through Gotham. Sadly, they had figured that out only after Zsasz slit the throat of a rookie doctor who had been on staff for a week. Before he disappeared, he carved another tally mark into his already ridiculously scarred skin to mark the occasion.

No one had any idea where he'd been hiding the scalpel he'd used to murder the doctor. No one wanted to know, either.

"Do we have any way of knowing exactly where he's going? Did anyone hear him say anything before he disappeared?" Robin scanned the treetops below, frowning at the lack of visibility. Zsasz picked the perfect evening to escape; Mother Nature decided she had one last surprise up her sleeve and dropped six inches of heavy, wet snow, blanketing Gotham City entirely and reducing visibility to fifty feet at best.

It was April.

"Gordon found a stack of notes in his cell a short time after the police arrived. No one has been able to decipher any of it yet," Batman replied. "He's got his best people working on it, but by the time they finish that doctor will likely be dead." He flicked a switch on the dash, turning on the infrared scanner. Robin smiled grimly.

"We're lucky it's been snowing. It should be easier to track him that way."

Batman nodded.

"Easier to track him, perhaps. But not any easier to catch him. You know Zsasz and what he's capable of."

Robin absently traced the scar along the inside of his left arm. It ran nearly from armpit to elbow. Eight months ago, they had been tracking Zsasz along the Sprang River; by the time Robin caught up with him, he had killed five people.

Zsasz had the nicks in the flesh of his neck to prove it.

Batman had been circling around to the north to try to cut Zsasz off from any sort of escape route. Robin was the only obstacle between him and his freedom. Without any warning Zsasz had charged at Robin with a six-inch blade in his right hand. Robin evaded the charge, or so he thought. As Robin vaulted up and over him, Zsasz deftly slashed at Robin's arm, cutting him deeply. The wound was so deep it nearly severed Robin's axillary artery. Had Alfred not located such a dedicated surgeon, Robin would have lost the use of his left arm permanently. As it were, he needed several months of rehab to strengthen the muscles in that arm before Batman let him out on patrol again.

"How would he even get off the island?" Robin shook his head and turned to Batman, who shrugged one shoulder.

"How does everyone else get off the island? By road or by boat."

"But the roads are all closed off. He won't be able to escape that way."

"Then that only leaves one other option," Batman replied. He pointed at the infrared scanner's screen. Someone was sitting in a tiny boat in the harbor about half a mile from the shores of Arkham Island. Robin smiled.

"Now who would be out fishing this time of night in weather like this?"

"My thoughts exactly," Batman answered. "We need to stop that boat before it gets to shore." He glanced at Robin for a moment, watching him look out the window. Although his gut was telling him something was wrong tonight, he pushed the thought aside. "How do you feel about taking the lead on this one? There's a harness about your size in the back." Robin's expression morphed from serious to ecstatic in less than a second. Batman raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

"Are you serious? You're going to let me do it this time?" Robin quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled into the back of the Batwing. A small red harness sat atop a coil of one-sixteenth-inch wide steel cable. Several other necessary accessories were neatly arranged next to it.

"Take a moment and hook everything up. By the time you finish we should be in position." Batman turned back to the dash, flicking several switches and turning the aircraft around.

Robin quickly stepped into the harness, carefully tightening the straps and buckles. He attached one end of the cable to the clip on his chest and the other to the large spool of cable mounted to the side of the Batwing. He checked each connection one more time.

"Are you ready?"

"Just waiting for your signal." Robin had one hand on his hip and his other hand wrapped around the clip on his chest. He locked eyes with Batman and nodded once. Batman nodded in return, opening the hold. Robin dropped into the opening and disappeared.

Batman frowned, unable to shake the feeling something was very wrong. With the howling wind and snow, he lost sight of Robin as soon as he jumped from the Batwing. The camera mounted on the underside of the aircraft was useless tonight. He touched a finger to his ear, activating the communicator.

"Robin, you alright?"

"Ten-four," Robin said quietly. Batman could hear the rush of the wind.

Outside, Robin continued his descent, carefully lowering himself toward the boat forty feet below him. The boat's occupant had no idea who was above him. He had an old walkie-talkie in his hand.

"Victor, you copy?" The man asked, his voice barely reaching Robin's ears.

"Yes, you idiot. I'm here when I said I would be. Where the hell are you?"

Robin tensed at Zsasz's reply. This guy had no idea that the minute Zsasz got into the boat, his role was finished. Since he was no longer necessary, he would likely become fish food. Robin lowered himself until he was ten feet above the boat. He gripped the cable with his right hand then released the catch with his left so he could drop down. A gust of wind sent the cable swinging wildly, and he had to grip it with both hands so he wouldn't plunge into the river below. As soon as it stabilized and he was once again hanging directly over the boat, he let go.  
Robin dropped onto the man's shoulders, catching him completely by surprise. He wrapped one arm around his throat, the other arm pulling it back just hard enough to render him unconscious.

Robin felt him tense as he tried to fight, but a minute later his arms went slack, and he collapsed onto the bottom of the boat with a thud. Robin tied an anchor to the cleat on the side of the boat and silently lowered it into the water. He secured the man's hands behind his back with flex cuffs.

"Robin to Batman. The captain of this cruise ship has been subdued. All clear."

"Well done. Look up. The cable should be within reach."

Robin looked up to see the cable drop. He fastened it to his harness once again and gave it a tug.

"Alright, pull me up. It's freezing down here!"

"I told you to wear the insulated suit tonight," Batman deadpanned. Robin smiled as the cable brought him closer to the Batwing.

"Yeah, yeah. At least I brought it along."

Batman reached out a hand and pulled Robin back through the hatch. Robin pushed the button on the wall behind him, closing it.

"I tagged the boat with a tracking beacon so Gordon and his boys can find him before he freezes," Robin said, taking off the harness. He shook his head quickly, snow flying from his dark hair. "It's really coming down now."

Batman glanced at him and handed him a towel to dry the snow from his head and shoulders.

"I think now would be a good time to get into your other suit." He turned and climbed back into his seat in the cockpit.

Robin opened a small locker and pulled out the winter version of his suit. It had long black sleeves and was made of an ultra-light high-tech material recently developed by Wayne Tech. The slightly thicker material also made the Kevlar inserts much more comfortable. He finished changing and grabbed his boots, heading back up to the passenger seat.

"What now?" He shivered as his body temperature warmed to the temperature inside the cabin. Batman noticed and adjusted the heater.

"See for yourself." He pointed to the infrared screen. There was a lone figure standing on the beach. "That's Zsasz."

Robin started at the image, cocking an eyebrow.

"How can you be so certain?" The image on the screen was simply a red blur, though a very skinny red blur.

"You heard Zsasz talking to our unconscious friend below. He's waiting for his ride." He glanced over at Robin who was now smiling.

"Then let's give the man what he wants."

* * *

Victor Zsasz hated waiting.

He had taken so much time planning, only for the one person he needed to fail him.

_Heads will roll for this._

Well, at least one head will roll. And he'll have one more mark to carve into himself somewhere. He grinned, one eye twitching.

_I'm running out of places to keep score._

He anxiously paced up and down the beach, glancing out into the water every few seconds. This guy was keeping him from his mission: kill as many people as he can. Free them from their miserable "lives". Zsasz stopped pacing when he heard the telltale signs of an outboard motor churning toward him. He scrubbed a hand through his filthy blonde hair, the other flicking a switchblade in and out.

"It's about damn time you showed up," he said, raising his voice to be heard above the wind. The boat glided toward him, but it wasn't until it ran aground that he could see there was no one in it. His captain was gone. Peering into the boat he saw his captain wasn't gone, but unconscious and therefore useless. He frowned when he noticed a message burned into the wooden seat near the motor.

**Look behind you**

Zsasz quickly spun, switchblade ready in his hand. A large shadow emerged from the tree line flanked by a second smaller shadow.

"You're not getting off this island, Victor. You've killed one person tonight. We won't let you kill any more."

The shadows were close enough to be identified now. Zsasz rolled his eyes and cocked his head, sighing when he recognized Batman. Robin was just a couple of steps behind him holding a pair of glossy black sticks.

"I have a mission and I plan on sticking to it," Zsasz replied. "These... voices won't leave me alone until I kill them all." He clapped his hands together, still holding the switchblade. "I'll have to find a special place to mark each of your deaths." He smiled a lopsided grin, one eye still twitching. "This should be fun."

Robin glanced at the knife in his hands. The blade was coated with blood.

"Hey, Zsasz. Where's the doc?"

Zsasz looked at Robin then at the knife. A sick grin crept across his face.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He wiped the blade on his pants, the blood leaving a dark stain on the pale green material.

"I'm not really in the mood for this," Robin fired back. "It's cold, it's late and I have a test tomorrow. Cut the crap. Where is she?" He spun the escrima stick in his right hand. Zsasz watched it for a moment.

"I only needed her thumbs to get out of Arkham, past the biometric locks." He reached into his pocket and produced both the doctor's thumbs. The fingernails were painted a bright pink. "She'll never be a surgeon again, that's for sure." Zsasz tossed the digits into the snow. "Man, did she scream."

Robin stepped forward.

"One. More. Time. Where's the doctor?"

Zsasz sighed and held up his right arm. Robin noticed the small wound near the inside of his elbow.

"I added her to my collection," Zsasz laughed, poking the palm of his hand with the tip of the knife. "Right after I cut off her thumbs, she screamed so loudly I had to shut her up."

Batman gently pushed a seething Robin aside.

"Zsasz, I'm warning you. Drop the knife." Batman's voice carried easily through the wind.

"Afraid not, Bats. I have work to do," he gestured to the Gotham skyline behind him. "They're all waiting for me."

"The only thing waiting for you is a padded cell in the deepest, darkest part of Arkham," Robin muttered.

Batman drew a batarang from his belt, the razor-sharp metal glinting in the moonlight. Zsasz cackled and slid a second switchblade from his pocket, the blade barely making a sound as it flipped open. With a flick of his wrist he sent the knife flying through the air directly at Robin. Robin leaned to his left, one of his escrima sticks deflecting the blade easily. It landed noiselessly in the snow behind him. Robin threw himself at Zsasz, one escrima stick striking Zsasz's forearm as he blocked Robin's assault. Every swing Robin took Zsasz blocked, which was unusual. He hadn't been so quick the last time. He latched onto Robin's right wrist and wrenched it upward, forcing Robin to open his hand. He cried out in surprise, the escrima stick dropping into the snow. With Robin now off-balance, he used his other hand and landed a fist against Robin's right ear.

Robin countered both moves, avoiding a serious injury, and pulled backward to free his arm, but not before Zsasz lunged and slid the blade across his forearm. It cut through the fabric easily, marking Robin's arm with a three-inch long gash. He landed in a crouch at Batman's feet and examined the wound. He felt Batman's hand on his shoulder, silently asking if he was alright. He shrugged the hand off his shoulder and ripped a small roll of gauze from his belt. Never taking his eyes off Zsasz, he wound it around his arm and knotted the end. Zsasz was laughing all the while.

"I had to add to your collection too, you know. Now you'll have one on each arm."

Robin had no time to react as Batman stalked toward Zsasz. He backed away from Batman and took a defensive stance before swinging the knife at Batman's throat. Batman leaned backward and caught his arm, smoothly bringing his elbow down on it. Zsasz shouted and dropped the knife, the blade disappearing into the snow.

"That was my favorite knife," he whined. "Now what am I going to do?" He swept one of his long legs out, knocking Batman off his feet. Wasting no time, Zsasz pounced onto Batman, pummeling his head and chest with his fists. Batman easily shielded himself from the blows, watching Robin approach from the corner of his eye.

Robin managed to find the escrima stick he dropped minutes earlier. He took his place behind Zsasz and raised them in front of him.

"I'm a bit disappointed in you, man. Only having two blades? That's not like you."

Zsasz immediately stopped his assault on Batman, turning around to face Robin. He swung the sticks down, striking Zsasz in the arm and chest. Zsasz stumbled a bit as Robin connected with the side of his head.

"You should know me better than that, my young friend." Zsasz smiled, blood oozing from the gash in his lip. "My planning could rival a Boy Scout." Robin watched in surprise as he drew two blades from hidden sheaths against his outer thighs. "I owe one of the guards big time for this favor." The knives were easily five inches in length, not counting the length of the handle.

He lunged forward, jabbing one of the knives at Robin. The attempt was dodged, barely, as Robin dove to his left and rolled through the snow. Robin crouched and waited for Zsasz to advance. He watched as Batman approach Zsasz from behind to try and subdue him.

"You're quick, I'll give you that. And you're smart," Zsasz said. He ran the blades together, flicking one of them against the other. Several sparks jumped from the blades and vanished into the snow. Robin backed up several more feet as Zsasz stepped closer. "But you know who's smarter? Me."

Zsasz spun quickly to meet Batman face to face. As Batman jumped forward to try and tackle him, Zsasz drove his right hand directly into his lower abdomen, his left hand slashing at Batman's right thigh.

"NO!" Robin cried, rushing forward. Zsasz held up both blades, keeping Robin at bay. They both watched Batman fall to the ground, instinctively covering the abdominal wound with one hand and clutching at his thigh with the other. He looked up at Robin.

"Robin, stay back. I'm fine." He moved to get up and his right hand slipped. Robin recoiled in horror at the spurt of blood coming from the leg wound.

"Oh, did I nick an artery? These things are so sharp, I should really be more careful," Zsasz cried gleefully. Looking at Robin, he held up both blades again. They were coated in crimson. "While you try, and likely fail to save him, I'll be making my way across the harbor." He stepped back and lowered the knives, wiping them on his pants again. "I'll be watching the papers so I know when to add your mark to my flesh, Batman."

Zsasz backed up several steps before turning and running down to the boat. He climbed in, started the motor and took off. Robin turned back to Batman, kneeling next to him.

"I think you'd better call the Batwing. I need to get you out of here before you bleed to death from a leg wound," Robin rambled nervously. He tugged a length of nylon rope from his belt and began tying it around Batman's leg as a tourniquet. He tried to ignore the blossoming spot of red in the snow and pressed his small hands against the wound.

"Robin," Batman said quietly, "I already called the Batwing. But if it doesn't get here fast enough, I might not be able to board on my own."

Dick looked at Bruce's face, shocked at the admission of weakness. His stomach churned at the thought of being out here alone, not being able to get Bruce to a hospital.

"You'll be fine, it's just a leg wound. I know he nicked an artery, but with you being out here in the cold and the tourniquet, that should help until it gets here." Dick glanced out over the water, refusing to look down and acknowledge how serious the situation really was.

"Robin, look at me."

Dick bit his lip and looked down to make sure he was applying enough pressure.

"Dick."

He flinched at the use of his name and looked up at Bruce, noticing how pale his cheeks were now that he had removed his cowl.

"It isn't just a leg wound."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more blood in this chapter, but it's nothing obscenely graphic.

Dick's eyes widened, his hands momentarily slipping away from Bruce's leg. He felt the warmth of blood running over his hands and clumsily covered the wound again. 

"What are you talking about?" 

Bruce looked down at his own hands covering his abdomen. Dick noticed that his gloves looked wet. He’d forgotten about that one because the suit was black. Bruce moved his hands away for a moment and Dick got a better look at the second wound.

Zsasz managed to find one of the only weaknesses Batman's suit had: one of the small gaps between the armor plates on the suit's torso. The gash was almost as long as Dick’s hand. He suddenly felt very sick and very alone.

Bruce pressed his hands against the stomach wound again and looked up at him. 

"My communicator isn't working. The Batwing should have been here by now." 

"I can't alert it with mine; we hadn't had the time to set that up yet," Dick replied quietly. He refused to panic but didn't know how much control he had left. He looked at Bruce again, who had laid back in the snow and was looking up at the sky. It had stopped snowing. 

"B, what's going to happen when you pass out? My hands aren't big enough to put pressure on both injuries at the same time," Dick said. "I don't know what to do."

Bruce coughed twice, sitting up slightly. 

"Call Gordon. He knows the general direction Zsasz went, he can follow that here." 

Dick gasped as he noticed blood on Bruce's lip drip down his chin.

_He's bleeding internally. I have to find help._

He touched the communicator in his right ear and felt pieces fall away. 

_Oh, god.._

"Zsasz hit my comm piece earlier. It's broken," Dick said, trying to keep calm. "What should I do?" Bruce didn't answer. "Bruce?" 

"Keep applying pressure and try to keep me awake."

Dick thought for a moment. He could smell the blood as it ran from Bruce's wounds and seeped into the snow. He swallowed and look up at the moon. 

"Did I ever tell you about when we first discovered Superboy at Cadmus? He said he'd never seen the sun. I promised I would show it to him."

"That would be difficult considering you found him so late at night," Bruce said. Dick noticed how much effort it took, and he glared at Bruce. He took the hint and remained quiet.

"That's what Wally said, too. Wally promised him we would show him the moon." 

Bruce shifted slightly, grunting in pain at the movement. His hands slipped from his abdomen and blood spilled quickly at the lack of pressure. Dick frantically covered the wound with his own hands, blood now pouring from Bruce's leg. Dick's breath hitched in his throat as Bruce's hands covered his own.

"Dick, go find help. I'll be okay until you get back." 

"If I leave you here, you'll die." 

Bruce didn't say anything.

"Wait.. you don't want me here if you.." Dick stopped, locking eyes with Bruce. 

Bruce waited a moment, watching as Dick's gaze shifted from wound to wound, then the harbor, then back to him. 

"I don't want you seeing another parent die, Dick."

Dick pressed his hands down on Bruce's leg angrily, eliciting a painful grunt. 

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Bruce managed a smile as Dick shifted his hands. "You aren't going to die, Bruce. I promise. Please.." His voice cracked a bit as he looked at Bruce again. His face was now nearly as pale as the snow around them. 

They both startled as a muffled noise came from the chest pocket of Dick's suit. It was Dick's cell phone. 

Tearing into the pocket with one hand, Dick pulled out the phone. He hit the speaker button with his thumb and put it down in the snow next to him.

"Hey! Where are you? You were supposed to meet us.."

"WALLY! Who's with you right now?" 

"Just Roy, remember? We were supposed to go see a movie tonight and you're definitely late. We came all the way to Gotham to.."

"Just shut up for a minute. Can you track my cell signal from where you are?" 

"Yeah, why?"

"Then do it." Dick glanced at Bruce. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow. He was also not putting enough pressure on his stomach wound. He reached over and pressed his hand over Bruce's. Now he was holding both wounds and it wasn't enough. 

"Because Batman will bleed to death if you and Roy don't get here. Call Barry if you have to. Just get here. NOW."

"On it, be there asap."

"Here that? Wally's coming. I know he kind of irritates you sometimes, but he irritates everyone." 

No response.

"Hey, B?"

Still nothing. Dick shook Bruce again. 

Screw the no names in the field rule.

"BRUCE!"

* * *

 

Twelve minutes later the Flash and Kid Flash arrived, wearing their stealth suits to blend into the dreary Gotham backdrop. Barry elbowed Wally and pointed to a dark figure huddled near the shoreline. They rushed over, stopping suddenly when they noticed how serious the situation was. The large patch of snow beneath Batman had turned an alarming shade of red. Wally instinctively grabbed Barry’s arm, unnerved by all the blood. Robin hadn’t said anything if he’d noticed they were standing next to him.

“Hey, Robin?” Barry crouched next to him, placing his hand on the teen’s back. “What happened?”

Dick didn’t answer for a moment, instead focusing on the placement of his hands over Bruce’s wounds. He moved his right hand and Wally saw Dick wince. Barry glanced up at his nephew, shrugging a shoulder, not knowing what to do or to say. Wally kneeled next to Bruce and across from Dick.

“Rob?”

“It was Victor Zsasz. He escaped from Arkham again. He’s got a thing for knives. Had one in each hand. Before I knew what happened Zsasz spun around and stabbed him,” Dick trailed off at the end, his voice becoming strained. “Batman’s comm malfunctioned and Zsasz destroyed mine.”

“I’m glad I called, then,” Wally said softly. “Roy should be here any minute with the boat. Can you step back so we can help?”

“NO! I mean... No, I can handle it. The bleeding has almost stopped. I think the snow is actually helping here.” For the first time since they arrived Dick looked up at Wally and Barry. He was trying so very hard to hold it together and not panic. He was trembling now; the adrenaline having worn off some time ago. He looked down at Bruce again.

Wally stood and pulled Barry aside. 

“I don’t think the bleeding has stopped because it’s cold, Uncle B. I think it’s stopped because he’s nearly bled to death.” Wally’s voice shook as he talked. Barry nodded and peered around Wally.

“We have to get him out of here. You keep Dick occupied, Roy and I will get Bruce into the boat. Think you can do that?” He looked pointedly at his nephew and squeezed his shoulder. “I know this is scary, but I’ll be with you, ok?”

Wally simply nodded and touched his finger to his ear. 

“Red Arrow, what’s your ETA?”

“Right behind you, Kid.”

The two of them turned to see Roy drive the boat up onto the sand and cut the engine. He froze for a moment when he looked over at Dick kneeling next to Bruce.

“What the hell happened?”

He stepped off the bow of the boat and landed in the sand next to Barry.

“Guy by the name of Victor Zsasz. He likes knives I guess.” Barry grabbed the enormous med kit from the boat and jogged over to Dick and Bruce.

“We need to hurry, I’ve seen this guy’s work,” Roy whispered urgently as he followed, “and hopefully we aren’t too late already.”

Dick looked up as the trio huddled around them. 

“Roy, help him. Please. I can’t feel my hands anymore.” He held them up for Roy to see. Blood dripped sluggishly from his gloves down onto his sleeves, soaking the fabric. With a horrified gasp, Dick slapped his hands back down over the wounds again. “He passed out fifteen minutes ago, just before Flash and KF got here.”

“Okay, let me see.” Roy pushed up his own sleeves and knelt across from Dick, gently guiding Dick’s hands out of the way. He retrieved a flashlight from the med kit and gave it to Barry. “Hold his for a second, would you?”

Barry held the light steady as Roy prodded at Bruce’s leg.

“The femoral artery was nicked, but the tourniquet looks like it’s doing its job.” He moved up to Bruce’s abdomen, gently prying the edges of his suit away from the wound. Blood oozed over his fingers and ran in rivulets down his side. He grimaced. “This one is the worst. We need to wrap it and get him out of here.”

Roy held his fingers to Bruce’s neck and glanced at his watch while Dick studied Roy’s face carefully.

He had no pulse.

The effort Roy put into trying to conceal his alarm wasn’t enough and Dick sensed it immediately.

“Roy, what’s wrong?” He crawled up to kneel by Bruce’s head. “Tell me! What’s wrong?” Roy glanced at Barry and Wally, shaking his head slightly.

“Get him into the boat. **Now**.”

Wally appeared behind Dick and gently locked his arms around him as Roy and Barry picked Bruce up, hauling him into the boat.

“Wally, let GO of me! He'll be fine! Roy? He'll be fine, right?” Dick struggled in Wally’s arms, but between the shock and frigid temperature it didn’t do much good. Wally worked to keep his voice low and calm.

“Hey. We have to get into the boat. Roy and Uncle Barry are doing everything they can, we’ll get him back.” Dick immediately stopped struggling and Wally let him go.

“What do you mean, ‘get him back’?” He turned and looked at Wally. “Wally?” Dick grabbed fistfuls of Wally’s suit. “Please, KF. Tell me.” Wally sighed and relaxed his hold a bit.

“Br.. Batman doesn’t have a pulse, Rob.” He looked over Dick’s head at Barry frantically waving to get his attention. Roy was huddled in the bottom of the boat, presumably giving Bruce CPR. “We have to hurry. Come on.”

The two of them stood up and Wally steadied Dick as he hobbled through the snow and into the boat.

“Wally, you can drive this thing, right?” Roy continued with the chest compressions but looked up at him. Wally had never seen him this terrified. He only managed to nod. “My GPS unit is all ready to go. Just follow that and go as fast as you can. Gordon’s already pulled his guys out of the harbor. They caught Zsasz.”

The three of them glanced at Dick, who paid no attention. He sat near Bruce and was removing his own bloodied gloves. He placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, fingers gripping the fabric tightly. Wally watched as Dick systematically shut down, his emotions burying themselves deep within him and his mind only processing what was necessary.

Dick would never say it aloud but at that moment, he was fairly certain Bruce Wayne was dead and he was back to being an orphan.  



	3. Chapter 3

When he came to, he was no longer by the river with Robin.

He recognized the room they were standing in as the emergency room at Gotham General. A team of people worked frantically around a man on the table. A nurse was squeezing a bag, forcing oxygen into the victim’s lungs. A petite young doctor was up on the table, her blonde ponytail swinging as she continued chest compressions. 

“Bruce, you shouldn’t be here,” Martha Wayne chastised gently. “It’s not time yet.”

She laid a slender hand on Bruce’s shoulder as he watched the scene unfold before them and he remembered what happened. This had been too serious for Alfred to care for after all. Two other nurses were trying to stop the blood flow from both of his injuries until they could get him to surgery. He arched an eyebrow when he noticed he was no longer wearing his Batman attire. The cover story was likely that Bruce Wayne had been attacked yet again.

“Jane! Get ten pints of oh-negative and start another bag of saline. He still doesn’t have enough blood volume to get his heart pumping!” An older man barked the orders as he hustled around each person.

“Mother, there are worse ways to go. This was hardly even painful,” Bruce said. He watched the coordinated chaos around them. Martha stepped in front of her son and frowned.

“This isn’t like you, Bruce. What’s changed?”

He shrugged. 

“I’m not sure. Leading two lives gets exhausting. When I have the chance to take off the suit and be myself again, it’s only when I sleep.”

“That’s understandable. But think about those you would leave behind,” his father added, joining the two of them. “There are people who need you.”

Bruce scoffed and gestured to the hospital staff.

“They don’t need me, father. They need Batman.” The nurses now were charging the paddles on the defibrillator. CPR wasn’t working and he could feel himself slipping away. He barely felt the shock course through him as they continued trying to revive him.

“I beg to differ,” Thomas said gently. He grabbed Bruce’s shoulders and turned him toward the door of the emergency room. If Bruce’s heart had been beating, it would have leapt into this throat.

Dick was standing in the doorway clutching the door frame with both hands. He was trembling and trying in earnest not to cry. His lips were moving but Bruce couldn’t tell what he was saying.

“Father, what is he saying? I can’t hear him.”

Thomas approached Dick, staring down at him sadly.

“He’s praying that you make it. More like begging, really. He doesn’t want to become an orphan again.”

Bruce continued to stare, becoming acutely aware of the ache in his chest that had absolutely nothing to do with the staff in the emergency room. He watched as doctors began stepping back from the table and Dick realized what was going on.

“Doctor, nothing is working. He hasn’t had a pulse in over,” the nurse checked her watch, “twenty minutes. Even with the hypothermia, the blood loss is too much. It bleeds out faster than we can get it in.”

Dick relinquished his grip on the door frame and sunk to his knees, not taking his eyes off the man on the table. Bruce watched as Dick struggled to maintain his composure. Roy knelt next to Dick, putting his arm around Dick's shoulders.

“Look around you, Bruce. It’s not just Richard who would suffer this loss,” Martha said. She nodded to the waiting room across the hall. Alfred looked on, pure heartbreak etched on his face. Barry hugged Wally tightly to his side, tears openly running down Wally’s face as he looked alternately between Bruce and Dick. “Don’t choose to go back because of Gotham or Batman. Choose to go back because you want to, because you want to be a father.”

Bruce turned as he heard the doctor speak.

“Okay, let’s call it. Time of death, oh-four-thirty,” he said quietly. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

Bruce flinched when he heard the voice behind him.

“No!” Dick cried, his hand covering his mouth to smother another outburst. “I'm standing right here, you can't die while I'm here," he whispered. 

Dick tried to stand, but Roy hugged him tighter and whispered something in his ear. Dick grew still, staring at Bruce lying on the table. The shrill tone of the heart monitor pierced the silence and he could hear several people sniffling.

“Bruce, you know this isn’t what you want,” Martha pleaded with her son, her hands on his shoulders. “It can’t be.”

Bruce Wayne looked both of his parents in the eye and nodded in agreement. With one last look at Dick and Alfred, he closed his eyes and turned away from his parents.

* * *

 

Dick twirled his thumbs anxiously as he watched the lines flicker on the heart monitor, the incessant beeping letting him know Bruce was still alive.  
Barry and Wally left when Bruce came out of surgery three hours ago. They were headed back to Mount Justice to inform the other members about what happened. Roy only left after Dick’s insistence that he needed some time alone. At first he refused, but grudgingly agreed when Dick pointed out that Alfred was here with him.

Alfred went to get them some food from the cafeteria, leaving Dick alone with Bruce. He swallowed thickly as he studied his father. It was easy to pretend he was only sleeping until the hiss of the ventilator ruined that illusion.

Getting Bruce stable enough for surgery was the most difficult part. After his heart started beating on its own again, the doctors had a monumental task ahead of them. With the substantial blood loss, they went through twelve pints of blood before they even took him to the operating room. The femoral artery was repaired and there was minimal muscle and tissue damage. He would have an ugly scar, but that was the worst of it. The abdominal wound required more extensive repair. Bruce Wayne and Batman would be out of commission for quite some time until that healed. All in all, the surgeons lost count of the number of sutures needed to repair Bruce Wayne’s injuries. They wouldn’t know the extent of any possible brain damage until he woke up. 

If he woke up.

Dick breathed a sigh of relief and picked up Bruce’s hand. It was much warmer than it had been several hours ago. He squeezed it, hoping for a response. His shoulders drooped when he didn’t get one. He squeezed it again anyway.

Had he not been staring he wouldn’t have noticed it.

Bruce squeezed back.

His face hopeful, he looked up at Bruce. He was still unconscious.

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” he whispered and squeezed a third time.

* * *

Three days later Dick was curled up in the chair next to the bed fast asleep. Alfred covered him with a blanket the nurse brought in straight from the warmer.

Alfred took a seat in a chair on the other side of the bed, keeping watch over his charges. Dick hadn’t left the hospital for more than four hours total since they brought Bruce in. Alfred forced him to return to Wayne Manor to bathe, change into clean clothes and to eat. The food the hospital served was rubbish.

Alfred wrinkled his nose at the thought of eating more of it.

Bruce’s vital signs remained stable and they took him off the ventilator while he and Dick left to get lunch that afternoon. It was a positive sign he was breathing on his own. Alfred resumed reading the newspaper, blanching at the ridiculous coverage of Bruce Wayne’s attempted murder. Jim Gordon had only told the press that Bruce was assaulted and was seriously injured. The tabloids tried to fill in the rest.

He discarded the paper and glanced out the window. The day was sunny. The snow had disappeared the day after Bruce was admitted. He became acutely aware he was being stared at and he turned.

Bruce’s eyes were open, blinking owlishly at him. Alfred leaned forward and smiled, holding a finger to his lips. He pointed at Dick, who was still sleeping. He seemed to visibly relax when he saw Dick was there, although he made a mental note to ask him about the bandage around his arm.

“What happened,” he croaked, his voice barely audible. Alfred gave him a drink of water.

“Victor Zsasz happened, sir. He was apprehended, but not before you were injured. We lost you for nearly half an hour.”

Bruce’s eyes widened. He remembered the conversation with his parents in the emergency room. He remembered Zsasz spinning around and stabbing him. And he remembered Dick trying to keep him alive.

“How is he?” Bruce asked, resting his hand gently on Dick’s head, ruffling his dark hair.

“Master Dick? The physical trauma was nothing. He’ll have another scar courtesy. But the emotional trauma was, I imagine, nearly equivalent to what he went through four years ago.” Alfred looked at Bruce, who was still staring at Dick. “And I never thought I would say this but thank goodness for cell phones.”

Bruce turned to look at him, clearly confused.

“Your communicators were both damaged. Master Dick was to meet Mr. Harper and Mr. West at the movies that night, and they called when he didn’t show. He broke your rule about carrying it with him and it saved you both.”

Dick stirred. He sat up and stretched, wincing at the kink in his neck.

“Alfred, has anything changed? I didn’t mean to fall asleep...” Dick trailed off, noticing Bruce staring at him.

“Dick, good to see you,” Bruce said quietly, smiling.

The color drained from Dick’s face as the composure he had tried so hard to maintain the last several days crumbled. He collapsed back into the chair and leaned over the bed, clutching Bruce’s arm tightly. Alfred slipped from the room without a sound.

“Dick, what’s wrong?” Bruce tugged his arm free and rubbed Dick’s back.

Dick’s shoulders began to shake as he sobbed into the crook of his arm.

“I’m fine, Dick. Really. I’ll be ok.” He continued rubbing circles on Dick’s back until he calmed down.

"But you weren’t,” he said quietly. “You died out there on Arkham Island and again in the emergency room.” He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, then stared at both of his hands. “You bled out several times over. Zsasz stabbed you twice, counting on the fact I wouldn’t be able to control the bleeding from both wounds.”

Bruce remained quiet, knowing Dick needed to talk.

“And he was right, I couldn’t control it. I literally had your life in my hands. And it slipped away.”

“You didn’t let anything happen, Dick. You didn’t sit back and let me die, even when I asked you to.” He raised the head of his bed slightly, wincing when he sat forward.

“You remember that?”

“I do, and I need to apologize for asking you to do that. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what it would do to you.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not go through it again, ok?”

“I don’t want you to have to go through that again,” Bruce said, remembering the look on Dick’s face in the emergency room. _I can’t handle seeing that look on your face again_ , he thought. Bruce watched as Dick sat back in his chair and tucked his legs beneath him. He decided to have a little fun with his son to lighten the mood.

“Now what’s this about you bringing your cell phone with you? You know that’s something I don’t allow…”

Dick cut him off. 

“Come on, Bruce, really? You’re going to lecture me about that after this? That cell phone saved your life. Well, that cell phone, Barry, Wally, Roy and the doctors here at the…” He crossed his arms and glared at Bruce. Bruce chuckled, his tired eyes now filled with mirth.

“I guess I can let it go just this once,” Bruce interjected, enjoying the smile that eased its way back onto Dick’s face.

Alfred smiled from just outside the doorway, returning with real food.

It always somehow managed to work out in the end.

For now, at least.


End file.
